


Let's Try Again

by partypaprika



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/pseuds/partypaprika
Summary: “Oh my god,” Meg said when Marta walked into Meg’s room, her eyes going wide. Meg had apparently been packing up her books, because she immediately dropped a half-packed bag onto the ground, books spilling out everywhere. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that you would be here. Alan said that this would be a good time to come by and get my stuff.”
Relationships: Marta Cabrera/Meg Thrombey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Let's Try Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woodenpicador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodenpicador/gifts).



Meg was at the house when Marta walked in. “Oh my god,” Meg said when Marta walked into Meg’s room, her eyes going wide. Meg had apparently been packing up her books, because she immediately dropped a half-packed bag onto the ground, books spilling out everywhere. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that you would be here. Alan said that this would be a good time to come by and get my stuff.”

“It’s completely fine,” Marta said, although her heart was beating anxiously. She’d known that it was Meg’s car in the driveway and she’d spent the entire walk up to Meg’s room trying to brace herself. She hadn’t seen Meg since the day that Alan had read the will and turned Marta’s life upset down for the second time in as many weeks.

Marta bent down to help Meg repack her bag despite Meg’s protestations.

“It’s fine,” Meg said.

Marta ignored her, carefully handing over a few of Meg’s books. “I’ve tried to text you.”

Meg closed her eyes and sat down on the ground. “I know.” She let out a little laugh that sounded anything but amused. “I’ve written you a thousand texts back—I just can’t seem to send one.”

“How about you tell it to me? Maybe that will go over better. No way to delete it,” Marta said.

Meg brought her hands up and rubbed her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know if I there’s enough ways for me to say that I’m sorry. I really fucked up and I fucked you over. And the worst part is, what did I think was going to happen? That any of Uncle Walt or Aunt Linda would use that information for anything but helping themselves? That Aunt Donna was going to advocate for something outside of her comfortable, white privilege lifestyle?” Meg let out a noise of frustration. “I’m so sorry, Marta. You didn’t deserve for me to do that. I just came here to get my stuff and then I’ll be out of your house.”

Marta hadn’t started thinking of the house as hers, although technically it was. She wasn’t sure that she wanted Harlan’s house to be hers.

“Hey, look,” Marta said, gently putting her hand on Meg’s arm to keep her from getting up. “It will be ok. And if I accept your apology, will you stay and have some tea with me?”

“You don’t have to accept my—” Meg started just as Marta laughed.

“It was a joke, Meg. I absolutely accept your apology, whether or not you stay and have tea. But I would like you to stay if you want to stay.”

“I—ok,” Meg said.

In a way it felt routinely familiar—drinking tea in the kitchen with Meg like she had done a thousand other times. But it also felt like uncharted territory—there was no giggling about Harlan’s eccentricities or Joni’s latest product released with Flam. They both spoke in hushed tones and stuck to safe topics. School for Meg. Movies. Alicia’s new job.

Only as they were finishing their cups of tea did Meg ask, “How are you doing?”

Marta shrugged. “I miss Harlan. And I feel very out of my depth. He was the one who always had a plan. And I wish that he had shared it with me.”

Meg shrugged. “I think that you’ll figure it out. Like you said, Harlan always had a plan. And he knew that whatever you did, it would be right.”

“Thanks,” Marta said.

When she walked Meg out to the front door, Marta paused and Meg did as well, mirroring Marta’s position. “Do you want to get dinner this week?” she asked. “Or hang out somewhere that isn’t surrounded by Harlan memorabilia?’

“Yeah,” Meg said, surprised. “I would really like that.”

They ended up meeting for breakfast before one of Meg’s classes. Marta’s schedule had opened up considerably and although she still had a million things to do for Harlan’s estate, the one perk was that she could choose when and how to schedule things. So, she made time for breakfast.

Away from the house, from the sheer-Thrombey-ness of it, Meg seemed to relax a bit and by the time that they met for breakfast the third time, it felt like they had worked through the worst of it.

“How’s Joni?” Marta asked after she placed an order for pancakes.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Flam’s meditation crystals were recently featured on GOOP. So Mom is going crazy and living her best influencer lifestyle.”

“She does love being an influencer,” Marta agreed.

Meg laughed and shook her head. “I will never understand how we’re related. I must take after my father.”

“Hey now,” Marta said, reaching over to touch Meg’s wrist. “I know that you have an Instagram too.”

Meg’s mouth dropped open in mock horror and she grabbed back at Marta’s hand. “I can’t believe that you would bring that up,” she said. “I thought you were my friend.”

Meg didn’t let go of Marta’s hand and Marta didn’t move away as they continued to argue about Meg’s theoretical aspirations of the influencer lifestyle. It was only when the waiter showed up with Marta’s pancakes and Meg’s scrambled eggs did they pull apart.

That night, Marta lay in bed and thought about Meg’s hand. It had felt nice, holding hands. Normal, but a bit exciting. In a way, it had felt a little bit like the best part of flirting, right before a person took the plunge. But, it had also felt like everything else she and Meg had done before Harlan’s death.

The next morning, she caught her mom before she headed out for work. “Have you ever flirted with a friend?” Marta asked as she made herself some coffee.

“Only when I wanted to date that friend,” her mother said, an eyebrow raised. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Marta looked down at her coffee really hard. “I’ll see you later,” she said instead, not wanting to risk upsetting her stomach.

At their next breakfast, Marta had butterflies in her stomach the entire drive over to the diner. When their food arrived, Marta couldn’t even bring herself to eat it. Meg frowned and reached over to tap Marta on the hand.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Meg asked. “And don’t try and say ‘nothing’. I don’t think that either one of us wants you to be sick here at the table.”

“Um,” Marta said eloquently. There were so many ways that this could go wrong. But…Harlan had trusted her to have a plan for his estate. She needed to trust herself to have a plan for her own life. “Do you want to have dinner with me this week. On a date?”

Meg stopped short, her face almost comically frozen in shock. “A date? With me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Marta said. “I don’t see anyone else sitting at this table that I would like to have a date with.”

Meg started blushing and she looked down at her eggs. “Yes,” she said and then let out a long exhale and looked up at Marta. “Yes, I would love to go on a date with you.” Meg started smiling and it was so wide and so beautiful that Marta couldn’t help but reach out. Meg met her halfway, Meg’s hand intertwining with Marta’s and Marta was certain that her smile was just as wide.


End file.
